


Oh Master You're So Fine!

by JerseyGirl324



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Light BDSM, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons, Submission, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl324/pseuds/JerseyGirl324
Summary: A private scene in the TARDIS set immediately post-"Eaters of Light."
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Twelfth Doctor/The Master, Twelfth Doctor/The Master (Gomez)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Oh Master You're So Fine!

The TARDIS engines hum over the fading melody of ancient bagpipes. The Doctor stands in the console room, clasping the hands of his oldest friend; she’s gazing at him with moistened eyes. It’s not the first time he’s seen his fellow Time Lord’s tears. Over the course of their tortured relationship, they’ve caused each other lifetimes of pain, yet both are filled with cautious optimism that this time will be different. 

She puts an arm around his waist and pulls him close. Her breath on his neck rekindles the familiar fire between them. "Can't we just...be together again?" she inquires softly.

The Doctor looks down. He fears he'll succumb to those eyes. "I don't think either one of us are ready for that," he murmurs. He must not be consumed by this need, however hot it burns; their past is a constant reminder of how easily self-control can slip. 

"You cunt tease!" she retorts in frustration. "You've been tinkering around in my head for so long, trying to teach me to be 'good,' and still you intend to deny us this?"

"I know you're changing," the Doctor counters. “I see it. But it takes _time_ , Missy. Rushing back into...that...might complicate the progress you've made."

"Or it might help," she suggests wickedly, swaying with the Doctor in an exaggerated dance. "You know there's nothing like carnal pleasure to enhance the telepathic connection!"

"Missy, don't be crass. You know I took an oath..."

"But I've been such a _good girl_ ," she pouts. “Locked up like some mummy in a crypt. Ignored for months on end while you mucked about playing the _hero_.” Her words are a knife between the Doctor’s hearts. An accusation. "And I've saved this regeneration for _you_ , my dear. Just like I always do."

"Likewise," the Doctor admits quietly. "So never think I don't want..."

"What is it then?" she scoffs. "I've hardly been 'good' when I've had you before! Why keep me waiting this time?" She glares at him in indignation tinged with a hint of amusement. "Is it because I have lady parts now?"

The Doctor snorts in spite of himself. "Not at all!” he exclaims. “The evil Mary Poppins look _is_ a bit distracting, though. But definitely an improvement over bottle blond and a hoodie."

What the Doctor doesn’t add is just how _beautiful_ she looks these days. Her hair is looser, messier than when he first encountered her new regeneration in Saint Paul’s. Her eyes are more striking without all that makeup. But if he complimented her, she would no doubt dismiss it – or continue to bait him by claiming the changes are the result of having let herself go while in captivity. 

He is brought back from his musings by the sound of her laughing. "I tried some suits from my Prime Minister days, but they didn't quite work for me anymore,” she remarks. “Not on Earth, anyway. You know how rigid the humans are with their quaint little gender constructs."

The banter has lulled the Doctor into letting his guard down. She seizes the opportunity and pushes her full weight against him until his back hits the console. The female Time Lord smirks. "Now I have you right where I want you," she whispers. Her lips are on his before he can devise an escape, or even utter a word of protest. The old spark ignites a powder keg as her tongue slides easily into his mouth, the TARDIS humming louder as her energy syncs with theirs.

His old friend pulls back and grins against his cheek. "I think she approves, Doctor." 

“I’m surprised she’s forgiven you! It took her awhile to recover after you turned her into a paradox machine.”

The other Time Lord rolls her eyes. “Well, I’ve only been handling all her basic maintenance since I came aboard. You’re rubbish at it. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you know how to make a woman feel good.” 

She is silent for a time as memories of their past linger in the air between them. “Do you remember how long you dreamed of keeping me?” she asks, deceptively sentimental. “And how you wept when I chose to die rather than allow it?”

“Yes,” the Doctor breathes. “I only ever wanted to help.”

“You were a beautiful sight, begging me to stay. It may have been the cruelest thing I’ve ever done to you.” Her voice is soft but there’s a note of pride in her words. “But I chose differently this time. I’m giving you a chance. And we both know I could leave if I wanted to. So do not _disappoint_ me, Doctor.”

She kisses him again, unyielding as ever. Their minds instinctively seek connection and he slips effortlessly into the cocoon of her psyche. Together they run through the red grass; she shows him Mount Perdition, its slopes rising to the stars, and the silver-leafed trees reflecting the morning light of the duel suns. Childish laughter mingles with the whisper of the breeze as it rustles through fields stretching to the horizon. They lose themselves in each other, renew old promises, until everything blends together and it’s impossible to determine where one ends and the other begins. 

_Are you with me?_

_Always, my dear._

But as the Doctor pushes further, he finds walls, too. Perhaps the dark corners of her mind still harbor a world on fire. He could force her, if he wanted, assail those barriers until there’s nothing left standing in his way. Make her _prove_ her sincerity. Would she be strong enough to withstand him? He feels the temptation rising. She’s done it to him, after all, in past regenerations. He shudders at the memory. No. He couldn't violate her that way. It would be an unforgivable betrayal.

 _Don’t you dare, Doctor!_ The telepathic link snaps as she abruptly pushes him away. He lands at the foot of a nearby couch, grimacing as his knees hit the floor. She sits down, smooths her skirt, and glances at him coolly. He knows better than to try and get up.

"Missy..." he implores. He needs her to know he would never hurt her. He’s ashamed for even thinking it.

She slaps him across the face. It’s more startling than painful, and he looks at her in quiet surprise. She reaches down to caress his cheek. " _No_ , Doctor," she tsks softly. The seductive façade melts away to reveal a formidable demeanor the Doctor knows all too well. 

"Use my _name_."

A jolt of arousal tinged with fear nearly paralyzes him at the familiar command. There’s a lump in his throat as he wills his lips to form the one word they’re both waiting to hear.

"Master..." he replies softly.

“What was that, Doctor?”

“Master,” he repeats, louder this time. That single word is a release, an offering, a prayer.

"I like it when you call me by my name," she sighs contentedly. " _Missy_ was a wee bit of fun to keep you off balance - but it was never meant to be a replacement for the title I chose." She leans forward with a purposeful stare. “Because we both know it’s more than just a name, isn’t it, Doctor?”

The Doctor understands exactly what she means. He drops his head in a wordless nod. The Master’s chosen name symbolizes the essence of their relationship - a pact that’s been in place since their youth. His use of that name is an invocation of a bond more sacred than anyone else can ever know. The Doctor realizes he’s been so consumed with trying to change his oldest friend that he’s forgotten who they are to one another. And the Master has no doubt been quietly anticipating the point it would all come rushing back - as it always does.

"Look at me," she orders, reaching out to lift his chin. 

The Doctor’s eyes abashedly meet hers. He winces from the metal grate digging into his knees - and is sure she notices - but dares not shift position without her permission. She doesn't offer it.

"Tell me what _you_ need, Doctor."

The Doctor considers this for a moment. He won't flatter her. He knows when she’s looking for an honest answer. "Good faith," he finally offers. "Everything we're working to accomplish - everything we might yet do - I need you to act in good faith."

Her eyes dampen yet again. _Damn him._ Always so earnest, her Doctor. She takes a careful breath and composes herself. 

"I promise," she declares. "I _have_ changed. I'm not trying to trick you. I can be your Master, as I always have, and now I can also be...good." 

"Thank you, Master." The Doctor almost sighs in relief. Allows himself to hope. 

"But as I told you in the vault, I have my own mind," she adds. "We won't always approach things the same way. Your definition of what is 'good' isn't necessarily going to be the final word."

The Doctor nods cautiously. He’s always admired the Master's intellect - yet watched in horror countless times as it’s been used to sinister effect. Can they trust each other now? Can they even trust _themselves_? The Doctor knows that together they could do anything. Her mind is the only one that’s ever been equal to his own, even surpassed it at times. But would they know when to stop? 

The Master studies him curiously, as if she can see the wheels of his brain turning at the prospect of all they might achieve. But she also senses his doubts, his fears, haunting memories of the times he’s gone too far. She pulls the Doctor out of his roiling thoughts with a pointed question they both must have an answer to.

"And is there anything _else_ you need, my dear Doctor?" 

"Keep me accountable," he responds instantly. 

There's an imploring edge in the Doctor's voice. It's a confession - an expected one. ‘The man who should never be controlled’, the Master called him. With one inviolable exception. Oh, she knows him. Perhaps better than he knows himself.

The Doctor barely has time to grasp the significance of what he's just asked for. He pledged to teach the Master to be good - yet his old friend never fails to remind him he has no right to the moral high ground. And didn’t he _thank_ her, in the graveyard, for showing him he’s not a good man? But not a bad man, either. Just an idiot doing the best he can across far too many lifetimes. Yes, _this_ is what he needs. He swallows hard and asks again - properly this time.

“ _Please_ , Master.”

"It's settled then," she responds with satisfaction. "We’ll continue to have a dialogue about what it means to be ‘good.’ I've committed to the process, after all. And I'll once again provide that _discipline_ you so desperately crave."

She rises suddenly and comes down to the Doctor's level, taking his hands in hers. "Will you submit to me, Theta?" she asks. "As you did all those centuries ago, when we were young?"

He looks her directly in the eye. "Yes, Koschei," he answers without hesitation.

The Doctor immediately tenses at that slip of the tongue. But she shows no sign of anger or disapproval. He takes a breath and relaxes - slightly - while clutching her hands just a bit tighter.

The Master finds herself smiling. She should punish him for impertinence - but it was she who sparked it by using _his_ childhood name. So she considers how best to simply enjoy him. And although he's just given her the only consent she'll ever need, she intends to make sure the Doctor really is ready to move beyond his earlier protests.

"What do you want me to do with you, Doctor?" she inquires deviously.

"Anything, Master," he whispers. 

"Good answer." 

Oh, where to begin? She contemplates allowing him to fuck her. She has to admit she’s long been intrigued by the idea of experiencing it in a female body. But he hasn’t _earned_ that yet. It’s a privilege the Master has never bestowed lightly. And over indulgence tends to make the Doctor forget his place. Besides, she has a much better idea.

“Stand up and wait for me to come back,” she commands. 

The Doctor rises to his feet as the Master strides off downstairs. The TARDIS sings with energy – with excitement. It suddenly dawns on him that she too has been waiting for this all along. How could he not have seen it before? She left him on Mars, after all. Left him and returned to the university, refusing to fly back until the Master was at the controls. 

_You naughty girl_ , he chastises silently. She responds by dimming the lights in what the Doctor can only interpret as an effort to create ambience in anticipation of…well, whatever it is he has just agreed to. _Touché_ , he smirks.

The Master soon returns wearing a single-button black blazer with nothing underneath. It suits her. The deep plunge reveals the smooth curve of her breasts. She has let her hair down, too. The dark locks fall gently over her collarbones and chest. The Doctor’s breath catches at the sight of her. His gaze drifts downward to a glass dildo that melds seamlessly into her body, without any obvious straps or mechanisms. Whimsical swirls of blue adorn the shaft, sparkling in the low light of the console room. A pair of low-heeled black boots rising midway up her calves accentuate her legs. There can be no doubt she’s already given this a lot of thought – biding her time until the perfect moment.

"You're beautiful, Master." 

The Doctor finds he is now able to say it aloud. He’s given himself to her and she’s accepted that gift. She grins and walks towards him, picking up a cushion on the way. She drops it at his feet and stands facing him; their eyes lock in understanding as she grasps his hand and guides it onto her cock. He strokes the glass curiously, mapping the smooth curve of the shaft and the pronounced ridge of the head. It’s larger than he is accustomed to. Harder, too. His stomach does a somersault as he wonders what she might decide to do with it.

There is a predatory gleam in her eye. "Don't worry," she smirks. "I’ll go easy on you tonight. After all, we have more than enough time to break you in again. No need to rush a virgin body." Her lips are once again on his for a teasing kiss before she takes a determined step back. 

"Now kneel to your Master."

The Doctor sinks silently onto the cushion. He resists the urge to prostrate himself before her. She’ll tell him when that might be appropriate. “Look at me,” she orders. In his expression she sees the all-consuming devotion she first noticed in Theta so very long ago. Some things never change. She places her cock against his lips. "Nice and slow," she whispers in encouragement.

The Doctor takes the head into his mouth and teases the cool glass with his tongue. He traces the blue swirls near the tip with reverence, his eyes open to take it all in. The Master lets him explore for a while, appreciating the spectacle, then pushes her hips forward, coaxing him to take more. The Doctor angles his head to accommodate; she slides in gradually, just a bit deeper, eager to learn the responses of this new but older body. She pauses again and allows him to move his lips up and down her shaft, warming the glass with a gentle suction that seems to spread throughout her entire body.

She keeps still for a long while, then presses onward, finally making contact with the back of the Doctor's throat. His muscles instantly contract and the sensation shoots directly to her clit. She suppresses the urge to fuck his mouth; suffocation would certainly kill the mood, and right now, that’s not what she’s after. So she backs off and waits to see what he can handle. The Doctor manages to take all of her for what feels like an eternity before pulling back for air. The Master lets him have a momentary breath before plunging in again, and is amazed to find that he eagerly meets her thrust without a moment of resistance. She holds herself motionless as he swallows her entire length again and again, providing the most delicious tightness as his throat constricts around the unyielding glass.

She wants to _feel_ what he feels. She touches her fingers to his temples and gasps as a pleasurable current surges through every fibre of her being. The Doctor hums around her cock, matching the vibrations that radiate from his mind. His energies are singularly focused on serving her. She rocks into him, desperate for still more friction. The Doctor obliges, once again accommodating her whole length, and she throws her head back and _screams_ as exquisite sensation floods their shared neural pathways. 

The Master’s release crashes over her in unrelenting waves - she knows the Doctor can feel its full force through the telepathic link. His psyche is consumed with the need to satisfy her in this moment. And, oh, what a talent he has! One would never guess it had been so long since he’s done this.

The reverberations eventually subside and the Doctor pulls back only enough to allow himself to breathe. He remembers how the Master’s previous bodies loved to linger inside him. She runs her fingers through his hair and almost purrs as coherent thought slowly returns and the TARDIS sings around them in contentment. Once she has managed to steady herself, she gently withdraws from his mouth and grins down at him. Time to drive home the lesson that she's the one in control.

“That’s enough for one night,” she declares matter-of-factly. “You can take care of yourself, I presume?” 

The Doctor’s eyes are wide and pleading but he nods shakily. The Master knows one word from her would cue the most delightful litany of begging. Oh, that is tempting! But she's determined to play the long game. 

“Good boy.”

It takes every ounce of her resolve to walk away. The Doctor bites back a groan as she leaves him quivering on his knees. She is aching with hunger for him, wants to run her teeth along his neck and down to his collarbone, biting hard enough to bruise, then dig her nails into the underside of his cock and squeeze until the Doctor screams out her name in pleasure and pain. But it’s only through patience that she’ll truly teach him to appreciate his Master’s touch. To never take it for granted again. And neither one of them are going anywhere – she has all the time she’ll ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a bit of fun inspired by Michelle Gomez's hilarious twist on "Mickey" in Series 8 & 9


End file.
